Distraction
by Inell13
Summary: Oliver Wood is a distraction


"Aren't yer feet cold?"

The masculine voice echoed in the quiet chamber. Hermione was startled and nearly dropped her wand. "What are you doing down here?" she asked sharply as she turned to glare at the man standing near the staircase.

"Careful, lass. It Iis/I my castle that yer exploring."

"As if I could forget with you reminding me constantly," she muttered, glaring once more for good measure before she looked back at the tapestry she was studying.

Oliver Wood bothered her. He had from the moment she'd arrived to find him in residence instead of off flying a broom around like she had expected. It might be his castle, but he had agreed to allow her access to research and investigate several lesser known curses that had been placed on various rooms throughout the structure. It was a coup, to have unlimited access to such an old magical dwelling, but she was starting to think that it wasn't worth having to deal with him and his handsome face and his fit body and---INot helping, Hermione./I

"It's cold down here. Why are yer feet bare?"

She counted to ten and tried to keep analyzing the tapestry, but it was pointless. He was obviously bored, again, and had decided it was time to harass her, again. That was the general routine since she'd started work two weeks ago. If she had her way, she'd work for hours on end without taking a break, but he showed up at least a half dozen times a day, no matter where she had found to hide herself away. It was like he considered it a game, pester her so she couldn't work and then go off to do whatever it was he was doing since he had retired from Quidditch.

"You know, I hate being ignored."

"I like going barefoot," she said with as much patience as she could muster at the moment, which wasn't much. "My feet aren't cold. You see, I have this lovely magic wand and know a charm to keep them warm. Now, if you're finished discussing your foot fetish, perhaps you'll run off and leave me to my work."

Oliver laughed, a rich, deep sound that made her shiver for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold. "Never been accused of having one of those before. Of course, I've never paid a lot of attention to feet until you showed up. Might be yer fault, at that."

"Don't blame me for your quirks, Wood. I am quietly doing my job while you have a fascination with my bare feet." She glanced at him so she could smirk but was surprised to find him standing closer than she realized. "Don't you have a broom to fly or something?"

"I can't fly until my knee gets better," he said simply. "The Healers think it'll take a few more weeks, and it's been busted enough that they're not even able to heal it easily anymore." He frowned and looked out the sliver of a window to stare at the water surrounding the island. "If I could fly, I would be, Granger."

"Sorry," she murmured quietly, feeling guilty for bringing up something she knew must be incredibly difficult for him. It would be like having her eyes messed up and not being able to read, which was one of the scariest things she could imagine.

"Not yer fault. You didn't tell me to keep playing Quidditch even after I'd been injured." He shrugged one broad shoulder and looked at her, catching her staring at him. She felt heat spread over her cheeks as she turned her attention to the tapestry, not wanting to see his smug smile or encourage him to linger and keep bothering her. "Must be fascinating, what yer looking at there. You missed lunch."

"Did I?" She considered it and realized that she had probably got lost in her work. "It is fascinating. It's a cursed tapestry, which I've actually never come across before. The curse, not the tapestry. I think it's concealing information, so I'm going to try to break the curse and see what was being kept hidden or protected."

"Sounds interesting. You can tell me more about it over lunch."

"I'm not---"

"You need to eat if you plan to break that curse. C'mon. I had Summers prepare a meal and got the boat out. We'll eat in the middle of the lake, so you can't run out on me like every other time."

"I can just Apparate from the boat," she pointed out. "And I don't run out on you. I eat my meal and then get back to work. That's what lunch means. A break between working."

Oliver groaned and stared at her. "You don't make it easy, lass. Maybe I need to write it down and curse it, so you'll bloody well pay attention."

"Make what easy?" She frowned at him, not at all sure she liked the idea of him threatening to curse things just to give her more work to do.

"This," he said right before he kissed her. She felt his hand on her lower back as he pressed closer. She should push him away, but how could she push him away when she couldn't even think at the moment? All she could really do was kiss him back so he'd not think she was some submissive groupie.

When they broke apart, her lips were tingling, her toes were curled, and she was panting in a very unprofessional way. Fortunately, he seemed just as affected. Had he really just kissed her? It was almost surreal, the idea that Oliver Wood, pestering annoyance and foot fetishist, had just kissed her so well that her knees actually felt weak.

He cleared his throat and licked his lips but kept his hand on her back, which meant she couldn't step away. "So, about lunch?"

"Lunch can wait," she said before she kissed him. Maybe there were benefits to being distracted, after all.

End


End file.
